Two is Better than One
by TheAlmightyPotatoLord
Summary: What would happen if Laertes attacked Hamlet a bit sooner, without Claudius' plan? While watching a sunset, Hamlet is suddenly attacked by a furious Laertes. Can Hamlet calm him down and convince him that they share an enemy? Or will he die by Laertes' sword, with the secret of his father's murder perishing with him? Oneshot. Rated T for violence and swearing. I don't own Hamlet.


**Just to let everyone know- I do not understand nor do I know how to write in Old English. The characters speak as if they were in modern times. I do not feel like butchering up the language Hamlet was originally written in.**

"Hamlet!"

Hamlet stood on a hill just outside the castle, the one he would sometimes go to just to escape Claudius. The brilliant sunset he could see from there always took his mind off of things. He whirled around to face the person who had called him, only to be met with the feeling of a cold iron tip against his neck. A sword, Hamlet thought. His eyes met his attacker's, a figure concealed behind a black cloak. He suppressed a groan. Who was it Claudius had tricked into trying to kill him this time? And in such a straightforward manner as well. This was quite the surprise coming from the man who successfully killed a king and managed to be subtle enough to fool his entire kingdom. This murder attempt was almost pathetic in comparison. Claudius must be really desperate to get rid of him. Or perhaps he was losing his touch?

"Pay attention, you murderous coward!" The man under the cloak demanded. Hamlet snapped out of his thoughts. Pathetic or not, he was at a disadvantage. His attacker could kill him any time he wanted to with a quick flick of the wrist. He was going to have to play things safe if he wanted to get out of this alive.

Hamlet slowly raised both hands above his head, and then softly said, "Please, I mean you no harm. Who are you? What business do you have with me?"

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet," the figure scoffed. At the sound of the dark amusement hidden in the man's voice, Hamlet could almost envision the smirk that would be playing on his lips. He just knew that voice too well to not know when that cocky expression would be there.

The figure began to pull back the hood of his cloak with his hand, but Hamlet already knew who he was. Laertes.

"Hello, Hamlet. It's been quite a while. Wouldn't you agree, old friend?" Laertes smiled in an insane, rage-filled way, pressing the blade deeper into Hamlet's throat with each word he spoke. "Time sure does pass by quickly, doesn't it, Hamlet? Seems like only yesterday that you and my sister were with each other, that I was going to France," Laertes paused and his smile vanished, leaving behind an expression of complete and utter fury as he spoke again, voice trembling, "How about when my father was alive, Hamlet? Doesn't that feel just like yesterday? Or when my sister wasn't a corpse because some half-mad arse told her he didn't love her, killed her father,and drove her insane?! _Remember that?!_"

Before Hamlet could even open his mouth, Laertes' arm jerked and the sword was pressed into the flesh of his neck. Hamlet began to take quick, shallow breaths upon feeling the sharp stab of pain and a trickle of blood sliver down his skin.

Laertes unnerving smile returned as he growled out, "I'm going to kill you. I want to see you plead and beg for mercy, and I want to see the fear in your eyes when I stab them out of their damned sockets!"

He quickly swung his sword back, preparing to deliver the final blow, when Hamlet ducked and pounced on his legs. Laertes let out a gasp of surprise as he felt his legs topple from underneath him. His sword flew from his hands and onto the grass a few feet away with a soft _thump_. Hamlet got up and kicked his stomach while he was down, using Laertes' shock from being attacked to his advantage as he quickly lunged for the sword and clasped it around his fingers. Hearing some shuffling in the grass behind him, Hamlet swerved around and raised the sword threateningly above his head, ready to stab. Laertes, who was now on his hands and knees and somehow donning an expression more ferocious than before, froze at the unspoken warning.

Hamlet sighed, but didn't dare falter his grip on the blade. "Did you really want to kill me without even knowing the entire story? You're being tricked, used as a simple pawn, just like I was when my father was murdered as well."

Laertes released a shaky breath, then spat, "Lies! Don't even try to compare me to you, you delusional psychopath! The only one trying to trick me is you! Your father wasn't even murdered- he died of natural causes in his sleep!"

"While he was in perfect health?" Hamlet challenged, "No. Laertes, there's more going on here than you know about! There's an entire kingdom in danger because of the one who's truly behind all of this!"

Laertes' murderous expression faltered. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, gritting his teeth together before his glare shifted down to the ground.

"Who's responsible for all of this, then? Just what's going on that I supposedly don't know about?" Laertes demanded, his knuckles a now startling white from balling up his fists.

"His Majesty, King Claudius," Hamlet replied, sarcasm practically dripping from his words, "He wanted the crown and he took my father's life to get it. He's aware that I know this and he wants me dead, so he used your emotions against you so that you would kill me. Corpses don't talk, after all." At these last words, Laertes tensed.

"How could he possibly be responsible for all of this? What proof is there?" Laertes snapped.

"Don't you think that Claudius' reaction to 'The Mousetrap' was extreme? It had a murder strikingly similar to my father's. That's why he reacted so severely."

"He could just be a sensitive man, Hamlet! Haven't you ever considered that before jumping to the conclusion that King Claudius is a murderer like you?" Laertes retorted.

"Laertes- think about it. When has Claudius ever shown himself to be a sensitive man? He acts as if he didn't even care for his own brother! And he married the Queen right after my father died! Does that seem sensitive to you?" Hamlet hadn't even realized that his voice had been steadily rising in volume, and he was now shouting at Laertes.

Hamlet took a deep breath to steady himself before he continued. It would do no good to make himself look like even more of a mad man. "I don't have much evidence to present to you, Laertes, but any man would realize that something else is going on here! Claudius isn't what he seems, and he's tricking you into doing his dirty work!"

"Let's say I decide to believe you. Then what's your explanation for the death of my father?" Laertes snarled, "And my sister? What happened to her?"

Hamlet shifted uncomfortably, sweaty hands still gripping Laertes' sword above his head. His next words came out as somewhat of a choked whisper. "I'm sorry, Laertes. Truly, dreadfully, sorry. Their deaths weren't even supposed to happen. They were just misunderstandings. Polonius and Ophelia became ensnared in Claudius' deadly trap, just like the rest of us. Look where it almost got us this evening."

Laertes stayed silent for a minute, letting Hamlet's words sink in against his better judgment. Hamlet was surprised to see his eyebrows slightly unfurl to no longer look vicious, but rather a mixture of both sadness and anger. "But… you did kill him. I… I just know it. You impaled him while he was hiding behind a curtain, spying on you."

Hamlet sighed before he said, "I thought he was Claudius. It doesn't make the deed I've done any less horrible, but… I didn't know it was him." Laertes squeezed his eyes shut. Hamlet felt a sharp pang of guilt at the sight, but almost audibly gasped as he realized something. "Wait a minute… how did you know he was spying on me?" Hamlet couldn't imagine that Claudius had told him that little piece of information. He allowed himself a sad smile, then continued, "Wait, wait, wait, wait… don't tell me… your father's ghost, right?"

He had meant it as a joke, so it didn't make him feel any better to see Laertes flinch at his words. _Oh dear God,_ Hamlet thought.

Laertes stared down at the grass for a few more seconds, looking deep in thought. Suddenly, he sighed, shook his head, and slowly stood up. Hamlet observed him closely and lowered his sword.

"No matter how much I want to kill you, what you say about Claudius makes some sort of twisted sense. He's the one who put me up to killing you," Laertes shook his head again and studied his boots, "I should have realized how suspicious he was, encouraging me to murder his stepson in cold blood. I just assumed that he cared for my father as much as I did… He didn't care at all, did he," the last sentence came out as more of a statement than a question.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but… I'm going to go after Claudius and find out what's going on," Laertes thrust his hand out to the young prince, who gazed at him questioningly, "Truce?"

Hamlet almost dropped the sword. That… was certainly not what he was expecting. He was expecting Laertes to call him every name in the book, to give him multiple wordy and vivid death threats, or at the very least to refuse to acknowledge anything he says, but to actually _trust him?_ His life never worked like that! Not that easily!

Laertes let out a loud, uncomfortable cough, snapping Hamlet back to reality. He realized that his mouth was hanging open, closed it, and enthusiastically shook Laertes' hand.

"Yes! Yes, please! Thank you!" Hamlet said back, unintentionally flinging Laertes' entire arm around like a rag doll.

"…Okay, then," Laertes said, removing his hand from Hamlet's, "So what do we do now?"

"Well," Hamlet said, an evil grin crossing his face, "We could give Claudius a midnight visit."

Laertes grinned back at him, before he asked, "Oh, and can I have my sword back?"

Hamlet returned the weapon to its owner and the two began to walk off of the hill, towards the direction of the castle. The entire way, they whispered plans while the setting sun cast a blood red glow on their surroundings.

** Woohoo! First fic! Okay, so this idea came to me when my friends and I noticed that Laertes is basically on the same quest as Hamlet, what with him trying to avenge his father after Hamlet killed him. This was intended to be a joke fic with Laertes and Hamlet teaming up and walking off into the sunset, but since I have no soul, it became twisted into this. Any criticism- no matter how harsh- is greatly appreciated! Thank you!  
**

**-Potato Lord**


End file.
